Her Daughter
by Twilight-Midnight-Dawn
Summary: What if Lucy never came back to Narnia? What if her daughter stumbled across the magical land and found herself a place on the dawn Treader? Follow the story of Lucy's daughter as she navigates the waters of self discovery, forgiveness and love.
The station filled with the noise of screeching brakes. The grinding noise of metal against metal sent an involuntary shiver down my spine as I reached down to pick up my singular bag. The small, ratty blue suitcase was adorned with small pins, colourful patches and some small holes I had missed. Being cautious of the rusted clasp, I weaved my way through the crowd of people. Business men in tweed bustled by without a second thought, recklessly brushing shoulders with other mindless bodies. Each to their own, own to their each.

I chuckled softly to my own joke.

Looking up at the stout lady behind the glass, I asked," Can I get your next ticket to Paris?"

She looked over her thin framed glasses with a disapproving stare before clanking her chubby hands against the keyboard. With one hand, she pushed her glasses up her nose while scrolling through with the other.

"There is one for Paris in 20 minutes, gate 37. You're going to want to hurry." She said, bored, taking the cash I had slide under the glass.

With the ticket and bag in hand, I ran through the station, a string of "sorry' and "excuse me" followed me in my wake. Numbers, trains and people flew by me, each blurring into the other as I rounded the corner to gate 37. A line still stood outside my designated entrance while I sat back and caught my breath.

Finally staring at the grand train, I took a breath and realized there was no going back.

With a gentle pat on the shoulder, I was awoken from my nap. With the back of my hand, I groggily wiped the drool from my mouth. The young attendant loomed over me, his huge body like a cage, giving me a warm hearted smile.

"I'm sorry to have woken you, Miss. But, we are in Paris." He laughed.

Finally, I sat up right, tasting the horrible taste in my mouth. I poked my head up over the fuzzy, red seat to find an empty car. In embarrassment, I clumsily grabbed my bag and tried to rush out of my aisle. Without success. My bag hit the seats, temporarily blocking my way at the knees which made my body lurch forward. My lips pursed together, my cheeks turned red as I slowly looked up at the cackling attendant.

"No rush, Miss. This train is not leaving for a while." He said breathlessly.

Bringing the bag into my chest, I easily slipped out of the aisle.

"Thank you, I am so sorry." I laughed slowly to myself.

He nodded his head, smiling, before opening up the aisle for me to walk through. Returning his smile, I walked down and through the doors into the Paris station.

I should have just gotten her to meet me.

The cool summer wind hit against my thin jacket as I tried to clutch it closer to my body for warmth. With that stupid suitcase, I aimlessly wandered the streets of Paris. The monotone voice of Siri cutting through the air, her directions getting me even more lost than before. I sent a quick text to Susan, nothing. A call, nothing. In frustration, I shoved the phone back into my pocket after making sure the sound was on. As the sun went down and the street lights flickered on, the true Paris came alive. Tourists held up cameras in awe of the view, locals overlooked them with mocking glares. Young workers stumbled out of bars after much needed drinks, their voices echoed off the cobblestone. A group of middle aged men with beer staining their lips sat at the corner I was about to round. With each female who passed by, their vile tongues would yell out even more vile things. In an annoyed huff, I walked by. My face set in stone. Lips pursed. Eye brows arched. Head up. Eye straight ahead.

One in the front hollered at me.

His thinning, black hair was gelled over to the side, probably to cover the bald spot on his wrinkled hair. His old shirt seemed to be stained with sweat even though the wind was cold. I didn't say a thing except rolled my eyes, letting the click of my shoes be his only response.

"You're ugly anyways, bitch." He snarled.

I stopped in my tracks. Blood rushed through to my ears. My face tightened even further, my brows coming together angrily. I turned on my heel. Let my feet fall heavy on the cobblestone. He had turned around, his back to me laughing with his friends. With a tense hand, I roughly tapped his shoulder. As he turned, his eyebrow raised in confusion before he leered.

"I knew you'd want some baby." He reached a fat hand towards my waist.

"No," I said as I swatted his hand," That is the exact opposite of what I want. I came over here to tell you to not speak to me or any other woman in that manner, you pig. I understand you feel insecure with you masculinity and feel the need to humiliate women to show off to your mates but if you could stop, that would be great. Don't worry, I won't tell them about your small-"

Before I could finish, he had my long hair in his hand. His calloused fingers drove themselves into my scalp as he tugged me into the alley. I tried to pull his hand out, kicking at his feet, dragging my nails against his hands. Arms. Face. Anywhere I could reach. Before I could even get in my breath to scream, his hand clamped over my mouth. In the same movement, he drew me into his chest. My arms immobilised in his chest. I tried to push out. Nothing.

I bit. Hard.

As blood rushed into my mouth, his hand drew away. I thought I had a moment to run away but with a yank of my hair, I was down on the ground. Head slammed against the ground. Black speckles found themselves in my eyes as I tried to focus on getting up. He was on top of me. Heavy breath on my cheek. Hand in my shirt. Please. Not again.


End file.
